


Life In A White-Walled Box

by kingmarmalade



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:32:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingmarmalade/pseuds/kingmarmalade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into what life was like for Monty when he was taken by the Mountain men (I really wanted a behind the scenes thing or something on this so this is how I cope. More screen time for Monty 2k15)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life In A White-Walled Box

He wakes with a start, eyes snapping open before he winces and immediately shuts them again. Easing into a sitting position he opens his eyes a crack to startling white, it coats everything. His clothes the walls even the bed he’s currently sat on. It’s unnerving in a word, so obscenely different from his usual world of bright vivid colours, constant noise and people. 

People.

It’s at that moment he looks around the room properly and realizes he’s completely alone. In this foreign 4-walled room that’s discomforting enough as it is, he is the only thing alive in it. “Like a specimen in a science experiment,” the thought sends icy shivers down his spine. He looks ahead and sees a door, bolting off of the bed he stumbles to his knees, palms connecting with the harsh cold floor. “Just how long have I been out?” Monty thinks. His legs start shaking and he gradually gets up, limbs trembling from their lack of use. A sharp tug stops him for a moment and he looks down at his arm. An IV drip trails from his forearm to a bag with clear liquid in it. Adding to his current anxiety, just what were they giving him? He grimaces at he tears the needle out, a thin trail of blood spilling from the pinprick wound.

Shuffling over to the door he peers through the porthole window he’s been given. Knocking on the glass to hopefully draw the attention of a passerby. “Hello?” he tries, his voice raspy he clears his throat and begins again “Hello? Is anyone there? Could you maybe tell me where I am? That’d be great”. Giving a nervous laugh Monty pounds his fist against the door jiggling the handle with the other. “C’mon I’m not even sick I shouldn’t be here,” he says with irritation as he tries tugging on the handle with more force. 

All he’s met with is silence, not even a hiss of an air vent or footsteps reply to his pleas. “Hey! Let me out!” all reasoning out the window now he starts throwing his shoulder against the door, fists pounding against the unyielding structure. “Where are my friends?! Where’s Clarke?!” he screams now. Continuously slamming his body against the doorframe in the hopes that either someone will come and help or it will give in to his efforts, whatever comes first.

He gives in after a few more tries and slides down the irritatingly pristine white door. Knees folded underneath himself he presses the heels of his hands over his eyes, sucking in air through his teeth. “What if the 100 are here?” he thinks to himself. “What if they’re torturing them like the grounders did? Or worse? What if they’re already dead and they’ve just kept me alive as an example or to watch or worse?” He starts to panic, hands shaking he draws himself up more. Wrapping his arms around his knees he bites his lip as tears threaten to spill over. “Where are you guys?” he asks no-one “Where are you Jasper?”

It’s been days now and he surprised there’s not a worn path in the floor where he’s been pacing around his bed. Sporting dark circles under his eyes he refused to give into sleep, afraid of what might happen if he did. Bruises also litter his palms and the right side of his body from where he’s been hurling himself at the door whenever he can find the strength to do so. He’s looked over his room dozens of times now, for an exit, for something he could use, for what he doesn’t know. “I just want to know where everyone is,” he says to himself as he stops pacing and sits on the bed. Left leg bouncing from nerves he runs a hand through his hair, wincing slightly as the action irritates a bruise on his wrist. His breathing is shaky and his gaze flickers around erratically. He can feel a panic attack building up again, this’d be the 3rd one if he lets it get to him. “No Green c’mon you have to get it together, the others still need you” he says to himself, as if saying it aloud will make it stick in his brain a little better.

Unable to sit still he stands again and begins to pace the room in the hopes of regaining some stability. Mumbling questions to himself he hears a noise. At first thinking he imagined it but then it comes again, a muffled clunk of something against glass or metal perhaps. Swallowing thickly he takes a small shaky step to the right to look of out his window.

He can see Clarke.

She’s pounding on the porthole window adjacent to his, shouting his name as muffled as it is. 

“Clarke!” he yells back “Clarke!” he tries louder. Pressing his face to the glass he tries to close the gap between them as impossible as it is. 

She’s alive, she’s living she’s breathing and she’s the first person he’s seen in several days. He shouts louder if possible, slamming his shoulder into the door as if the frame would give after the 30th try. Looking back to her he sees her gaze shift and her expression fall. “What has she seen?” he panics “Oh god is it Jasper?” he immediately thinks. He tries to throw himself against the door again, his shoulder and elbow sporting dark bruises now from his near constant attempts at freedom. 

“Clarke!” he shouts trying to draw her attention “Where is everyone? Where’s Jasper?!” She looks back at him and gives a sympathetic expression coupled with a shrug. “What? She-she doesn’t know?” Monty says aloud to himself “N-no that can’t be right, Clarke’s the leader, the know-it-all of the group she practically has a radar that tells her where people are”. Monty backs away from the window, slowly walking towards the bed but his legs give out before he makes it. “If she’s okay then the others must be too, right?” he thinks, hands balling against the bottom of his shirt. “Yeah, yeah they’re fine Clarke made it, heck I’m still alive so they’re probably just waiting for us” he offers with a nervous laugh.

A few hours pass and Monty’s done nothing but twist the bottom of his shirt till the lining snapped and frayed. He began rocking back and forth at some point, vision blurred from tears. “Please tell me you’re alright Jasper”, he mumbles to himself, chewing at his bottom lip in both fear and frustration. “I can’t lose you I-I can’t, not again” he thinks back to when Jasper returned to the drop ship with a gaping hole in his chest, pale and clammy and crying out whenever he was jostled too much. He’d thought that was the worst it could have possibly been, not knowing if his friend was going to live or not but not knowing if he was even alive was agony.

He hears a click and slight hiss and he could’ve gotten whiplash from the speed his head turned to the noise. There’s a balding man in a suit standing in the doorway and the door is open.

The door is open.

Monty slowly stands and takes a step back eyes boring into the corridor behind the man, the only glimpse of escape he’s had for days. This earns an amused chuckle from the mystery figure before him. “Don’t worry you’re safe here” he assures, gesturing to the room around him. “We have some clothes here if you’d like” the man offers. He motions to someone Monty can’t see and another man brings in what looks like a trunk on wheels, setting it down near the end of the bed he snaps some clasps open to reveal racks of clothing. “I’m sure you’re pretty sick of being in here yes?” the man continues, “Why don’t you change and we can take a walk? How does that sound Monty?” 

Monty looks up with a start to the suited male. “How do you know my name?” he asks, hands instinctively balling at his sides, ready to bolt when he can. “We know a lot of things about you and your friends” he replies with a smile “Your companions Harper, Miller and Jasper are all waiting for you you know”.

Eyes widening at the name he releases the tension built up in his palms “J-Jasper is here? Is he alright?! He’s not hurt is he? What did you do to him?!” he shouts walking up to the figure only to be held back by the guard. Fear sparks through him and he tugs him arm away to no avail. 

“N-no please I-“

“It’s alright Harris, release him he’s not a prisoner” the man replies calmly.

Harris nods and lets Monty’s arm go, backing away to stand at his side again. “I am sorry about that Mr. Green our people are not used to dealing with outsiders such as yourself. We are much more akin to the Grounder folk you had a run in with not too long ago” he chuckles. “Now get dressed and meet me outside of your room and I’ll escort you to your friends” he proposes with a smile, motioning to Harris to follow suit. They leave the door open, which Monty takes into account. “Maybe he really is serious” Monty thinks, “He did know several of their names that must be a good sign”, but after being locked up for days with little to no rest his anxiety is sky high and he’s still trembling from the whole thing. Also the way he phrased certain things stayed with him, he chalked it up to paranoia and picked out some clothes.

Quickly changing he meets the others outside “Ah good to see you’re ready, shall we leave? Oh and my name is Dante” he offers his hand for a handshake which Monty obliges, if not with a bit of reluctance. He takes this chance to now look around the corridor, taking in everything his view from the porthole couldn’t reach.

“Mount Weather Quarantine Ward” reads on a gold plaque across the ward, so that’s what Clarke could see. “Mount Weather?” Monty asks, “We’re at Mount Weather? And why the quarantine ward the radiation isn’t poisonous, I’m not toxic” he states defensively, looking to Dante for answers panic bubbling up again before he gets an answer; “Not to you it isn’t, but the people here at Mount Weather have not evolved to dealing with such levels of radiation like your kind have.” Dante replies, explaining the situation to him.

Listening carefully Monty reasons that his explanation does indeed make sense if it’s all true. However the whole situation doesn’t quite sit well with him, no matter how hard he tries to fathom it. Why are we all still alive then? Are the people here simply that accepting?

Too busy locked up in his own thoughts and too afraid to ask more he didn’t even realize that they’d arrived at their destination “Your friends are just through there” Monty looks between Dante and fogged glass doors, suddenly afraid of what he might find “Go ahead I’m sure they’re eager to see you” Dante smiles, gesturing with his hand towards the door. Monty tentatively raises his hand to door and takes a deep breath before easing it open.

“Monty!”

“Jasper?”

He’s greeted with a tight embrace and he nearly stumbles back through the doorway. It takes a moment but he hugs back, hands gripping Jasper’s shirt tightly he presses his forehead into his shoulder. “You’re alive, oh god you’re okay,” he murmurs into his friend’s clothing. Holding him tighter if possible. “Of course I’m okay it’s me” Jasper replies with a smirk, easing back from his friend. “You’re the one running off and getting taken away not me” Monty just looks at him incredulously “Uh I’m sorry are we forgetting the time you got yourself stabbed and then captured by Grounders?”

“Of course we’re not counting it I was being all awesome and finding Mount Weather whilst you went and got lost in the woods!” Jasper pipes up.

“What? C’mon that’s hardly fair” Monty quips poking his friend in the chest.

Their petty argument continues but Monty can hardly seem to care, he has his friends back and that’s what matters.

Right?

**Author's Note:**

> any spelling mistakes hit me up with a message


End file.
